***
For the first time since we’d started dating, Adam and I had a serious conversation about our relationship: one that ended with both of us feeling at ease. We’d discussed sharing our new identity as a “couple” with people, even Eva, and Adam agreed that it was for the best. Letting friends and family know that we were back together would only solidify our relationship publicly.
Although I had already let some people know I had been seeing Adam, he hadn’t told anyone. And truthfully, I could understand why: if it didn’t work out again, he didn’t want to have to explain it to everyone. I knew the feeling.
We’d made progress since the talk, making time to see each other when we could for coffee or a quick bite to eat. But I was ravenous with the need to spend more than a few hours together, though it seemed we'd soon have our chance. Eva had the Snow Ball—her first formal dance—on Friday and was having a slumber party at a friend's house afterward. Which meant Adam and I would have his house to ourselves. With Eva gone for the night, I would finally get to spend a night with Adam. He had assured me last week that he’d discuss our relationship with Eva, and he thought she would handle it well. But seeing a former student the morning after you came on her dad’s face was a whole other story. Talk about awkward.
***
Adam came to pick me up around 6:00, and when I saw him standing in the entrance to my apartment complex, I immediately felt underdressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “Why are you so dressed up? I thought we were just gonna order Chinese and watch a movie.”
“I’m not that dressed up. Just khakis and a sweater. I couldn’t look like a slob to take Eva to her pictures before the dance.”
Of course. I was such a moron. I should have known that Adam would have dropped Eva off and taken a few pictures of her and her friends. There would have been other parents there, and he would never just wear sweats to that. “Ah, pictures. I totally forgot. I would have gone with you. Of course, looking a little better than this,” I added, tugging at my Ocean City sweatshirt. “I would’ve liked to have seen some of my old students dressed up.”
When we arrived at the car, Adam shifted to put his seatbelt on, started the car, and turned the heat on high. “It’ll warm up in a few minutes,” he said. “Just give it some time.”
“I know how heaters work, Adam.” The car was already warm since he’d just been driving it. Clearly, he was trying to avoid responding to my comment about seeing Eva and her friends before the dance, so I figured it was better I dropped it. “How’d Eva look? Was she excited?”
“She looked so grown up. It was so weird. Her date kept trying to put his arm too low on her waist for the pictures. I had to put him in his place a few times,” he said, his voice intentionally stern as he mocked the way he spoke to Eva’s date. "Is it wrong to punch a thirteen-year-old?” he asked with a laugh, though I could tell he was only partially kidding.
“Who was her date? I didn’t even ask before.”
“Uh . . . Christian Grey or something like that.”
The laugh that burst out of me was the hardest I’d laughed around Adam in as long as I could remember. “Well, if that’s the case, you better turn around and go get her,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.
“Why,” he asked sternly. “What type of kid is he?”
“He’s not a kid, Adam. He’s a fictional character from a book, and one who’s into BDSM. I don't think you want him taking out your thirteen-year-old daughter."
“Oh,” he replied, a little embarrassed. “I knew that name sounded familiar.”
“I think you meant Chris Greyston, as in Christopher. He’s a nice kid. He plays soccer, I think. He gets good grades . . . the responsible type. No need to be worried.”
“Oh, okay. He sounds like my kinda guy then.”
“Yeah, though I’d probably pick a Christian Grey type over a nice guy any day. I like a little mystery and danger in my life.”
“Danger, huh?” Adam asked, looking over at me with a slight twinkle in his eye. “I’m dangerous,” he said stepping on the gas until he accelerated to a few miles over the speed limit. “You like that?” he asked. “I do that shit all the time. I’ve also been known to go swimming only a few minutes after I eat,” he said with a laugh. “And I always hold scissors by the handle when I walk.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Scissors, really? That sounds dangerous,” I said lowering my voice seductively and leaning in to put a hand on his thigh.
“Yeah, well, ya know . . . not too dangerous. I never run with them. Walk quickly at most,” he said with a wink.